A Guardian
by spn22
Summary: The life of Bruce Wayne, told from the beginning, through the eyes of Alfred.
1. The Beginning

_Bruce Wayne's story seen through Alfred's eyes._

 _I do not own Gotham._

 _Reviews make me :)_

* * *

This wasn't in the job description.

Alfred paced up and down the hall. He had made himself two kettles worth of tea and had moved onto the scotch half-an-hour ago.

How long did this kind of operation take? Was it really so complex? Alfred thought wistfully of the cigars he had thrown out, swearing he would quit. He wouldn't say no to one now.

Thomas Wayne appeared at the top of the stairs. He looked tired and slightly sick.

"Any news, sir?"

His boss shook his head wearily.

"Perhaps a small splash of whisky, sir?"

Thomas nodded thankfully and indicated for Alfred to come up the stairs. Alfred was thankful. He wasn't positive that Thomas would have made it down the stairs.

Alfred offered his glass but Thomas, his tie off, shook his head and gulped straight from the bottle.

"A long night, sir."

"You're not kidding, Alfred."

Alfred sat with his boss, both sipping at the whisky. With a sign Thomas stood up.

"I'd better get back. Martha would kill me if I missed the big moment." He chuckled lightly, gave the bottle back to Alfred and stood up.

"You should get some rest, Alfred. It could be a long night."

Alfred bowed his head. "If it's all the same to you, sir, I think I'll stay up and wait. Make sure I'm not needed."

Thomas smiled. "Thank you, old friend. I'll keep you posted."

Alfred watched the young man return to the room. He would wait. And he'd be there when it was suitable. Even if the thought terrified him.

* * *

"Alfred?"

Alfred rose his head up from his chest. He had, admittedly dozed off slightly on the couch. He shook himself and stood up, facing the smiling man.

"It's a boy"

* * *

Alfred had resisted. Mumbled that this was a time for family.

"Exactly" Thomas insisted.

Leading Alfred into the bedroom, there lay Martha Wayne, looking tired but happy. Alfred gave her a warm smile and then focused his gaze on the bundle in her arms.

"Hello Mrs Wayne. I trust…trust things went smoothly?"

Martha gave a soft laugh. "Well, I would't say smoothly… but he's here."

Alfred smiled. "Congratulations." He turned to Thomas, "To both of you."

Thomas put a hand on Alfred's shoulder. "Will you hold him, Alfred?"

The question made Alfred jerk. "Urm, not my specialty sir. Babies. I'd… I'd be scared of hurting him."

"Here." Thomas pulled up a chair. "You won't hurt him, Alfred. Go on. He won't bite."

Alfred would have preferred to take on a lion that _could_ bite in that moment. Not much encouraged by the new parents' smiles, he slid uncomfortably into the chair next to the bed.

Martha smiled at him. "You ready?"

 _No_ Alfred gave a shaky smile. "Of course, Mrs Wayne. Ready when you are"

Martha budged towards the edge of the bed and with an encouraging wink passed the bundle into Alfred's arms.

Alfred's held his arms out, stiff and nervous. His arms en wrapped the warm, small body.

He looked down into the tiny, scrunched up face. The little hands punched the air at an invisible monster. He watched as the tiny face tried to take him in. The little man already had shots of black hair coming from his head. He made indescribable little whimpers, his eyes never leaving Alfred.

Alfred didn't know how he was going to feel… but he was alarmed to feel tears spring to his eyes.

"Alfred?"

"He's… he's beautiful. Just beautiful."

"We think so."

"He... he is."

"He's your family now, Alfred... our family- we're lucky to have you."


	2. Toddlers

_Thank you for the reviews! I am actually in the USA for a few weeks but I thought I would send this short update :)_

 _I do not own Gotham_

 _Reviews make me :)_

* * *

Toddlers.

There was absolutely no guide book. And if someone had written it Alfred would like to bloody meet them and shove it down their throats.

He was exhausted... and it was only 9am.

"Bruce... Bruce."

"SPAAAAAACE ROCKETS!"

"Yes, yes, I know but I don't think your Mum and Dad will appreciate..."

"Catch, Alfrie, CATCH!"

"Bruce.. Master Bruce!" The young lad had thrown himself from the sofa giving Alfred only mil-seconds to catch the toddler before he would fall on to the glass table.

"Yeeeey Alfrie!"

"MASTER BRUCE."

He felt the boy tense in his arms at the sharp tone and he calmed his voice.

"Bruce, we can't be jumping off things willy-nilly now can we? You could hurt yourself." He placed the boy down and gave him what he hoped was a firm but kind smile.

Bruce regarded him for a second. "Okay, Alfrie. Sowry."

"Okay, Master Bruce. Now... how about you read one of your books for a while, hmm? You must be tired."

Bruce, in truth, looked like he could easily do a few laps of the grounds and then some. The boy slumped to the floor, looking up at Alfred with what the Butler could only place as disdain in his eyes.

"How about we go out for a drive into town, hmm? You can help me get food for tonight."

"Okay. Front seat?"

"If you sit still"

"I will!"

"And if you're good, you can pick out a pizza, okay?"

"Okay!" Bruce was up on his feet again, pulling at Alfred's trouser leg. "Come on, Alfrie!"

"Alfrie" Alfred muttered to himself. If his friends could see him now...


	3. Illness

Master Bruce was sick.

Alfred had soothed every headache. Every messy cold. Every graze.

He hated that he couldn't fix this.

"Sir, are you sure this Doctor's qualifications check out? You know, I could ring some contacts..."

"That won't be necessary, Alfred. Thank you." Thomas gave him a pained smile and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"They are talking about Meningitis, Alfred."

"Yes, sir."

Alfred didn't say anything else for a moment. He couldn't think of any words of comfort. It was he who had called 911. He who had noticed Bruce had been quieter the past week. More willing to give in to bedtime. Sitting quietly in the car rather than bombarding him with questions.

It had been when Alfred had been making tea. Master Bruce had been perched on the table watching him, as he often did. Alfred had been talking for both of them as Bruce was quiet. It was then that Bruce had lost consciousness, slid off the table. Alfred's quick reflexes had meant he caught the boy before he fell to the floor. He yelled for the Wayne's as he felt the boys forehead.

Since that moment he had never felt so helpless. The ambulance had been called. Unfamilair hands had taken the boy from him.

That had been two days ago.

"Shall I sit with Master Bruce, Sir?"

Thomas gave him a tired look. "You must be as done in as me, Alfred."

"I'm fine, sir."

"I don't believe you."

"I think, respectfully, you should look after Mrs Wayne. She must be distressed. I will watch over Master Bruce... he needs you to be rested, sir."

Thomas began to argue but withered. He was tired. Exhausted.

"You'll call me..."

"The moment anything changes, sir. Or if he wakes and asks after you."

"Alfred, I..." Alfred thought for a moment that his boss was about to collapse into tears. Instead he put a hand on Alfred's shoulder before going back to his son's bedside.

"I won't be long Brucie-boy. How about you wake up for Alfred, huh?" he bent down, kissing his son on the forehead.

Alfred gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile as Thomas left. Once the door was softly shut, the butler's attention turned to Bruce.

"You don't mind if I sit with you, Master Bruce?"

Alfred waited a beat before sitting.

"You know, Master Bruce, it's a beautiful day outside. Not a day to be in bed any rate."

Alfred placed the back of his hand on Bruce's forehead and winced.

"Doc, the poor lad's burning up something awful..."

The doctor nodded.

"We know, sir. We're working on bringing his temperature down."

"Well, can you work a bit faster?"

The doctor patiently remained silent, glancing again at the thermometer.

Alfred placed a gentle hand on Bruce's cheek. The boy whimpered and stirred under the soft touch.

"Alfrie..."

Alfred jumped. "Master Bruce! I'll get your father..."

"Alfrie, stay" Bruce tried to get up and then grabbed at his head, "Oww."

"Now, you calm down Master Bruce." Alfred put a strong arm around Bruce and laid him back down in the bed. "You need to rest"

"Where's Mommy... where's Daddy?"

"They're downstairs. I'll get them for you Master Bruce."

"No!" the small boys tried to shout and seemed surprise by the lack of strengh in his own voice. "Stay, don't go!"

Alfred sat back down, taking the boys hand in his own.

"Okay. I'm not going anywhere."

The boy whimpered again. "Oww" tears poured down his cheeks.

"Shhhh" Alfred rubbed the boys forehead. "Shh, I know it hurts Master Bruce but we're going to get you all better."

Bruce shifted himself so that his head was leaning into the crook of Alfred's arm.

"Tired"

"I imagine you are Master Bruce. You should rest."

"And you'll stay?"

"I'll stay."

"Thank you Alfrie."

As the little boy went back into a fevered sleep, Alfred gently stroked his hair. Once again, he swore he never knew he could love someone so much.

* * *

A reaction to the Chicken Pox virus. Alfred had had to sit down from pure relief. He had seen a friend of his go through it with nasty results but for a child it was easily treatable. A healthy pink glow was returning to Bruce's cheeks and he was already starting to ask questions and want to get out of bed.

Alfred was not a praying man... but he said an extra thank you to the big guy that night.


	4. A Birthday

_Well, it has been a long time coming [I can only blame uni and a crazy life with no Alfred to take care of me] but here is an update- thank you for sticking with me!_

 _Also, on a side-note... how awesome and emotional was the season 3 finale? Wow!_

 _Hope you enjoy- I don't own Gotham [sadly]_

 _Reviews make me :)_

"Master Bruce. Your suit."

Bruce folded his arms.

"Master Bruce"

"I'll look stupid."

"You'll look smart."

"Stupid" mumbled Bruce.

Alfred had to hide a smile. True, most boys would rather be dressed as a superhero than a suit for their ninth birthday party. But then most nine year olds would be running around in the mud or are on a bouncy castle. A fancy dinner party was not on the top of Bruce Wayne's wish list.

"Master Bruce. All your family will be there. They'll want to take photos, now you don't want to look like a Dickensian character off the streets now, do you?"

Bruce gave him a strange look, sighed and lifted up his arms in defeat.

"I asked Mom and Dad if we could just go to McDonald's."

Alfred helped slip the shirt over the boys's head and chuckled.

"Don't think Happy Meals are on offer tonight, mate"

Bruce looked up hopefully. "They might surprise me."

"I'm supervising the food, Master Bruce. Sorry to disappoint but I didn't spy any large fries or hamburgers on the menu."

Bruce gave another dramatic sign.

"Shall I save you a seat next to me, Alfred?"

"What's that Master Bruce?"

"At the table. You won't be on time if you need to go to the kitchen first."

Alfred gave a small laugh. "Master Bruce, my tea will be a quick bite of toast, if I'm lucky. I'm going to be working all night, serving your guests."

Bruce frowned. "No, you won't. You'll be with us. It's my party."

Alfred put a hand on his shoulder. "That's very kind, Master Bruce.. but it's family and friends only- and someone needs to feed them now, don't they?"

Bruce shook his head. "I want you with me at my party, Alfred... you'll be my only real friend there."

Alfred, touched, ruffled the boys hair. "I have a job to do, Master Bruce. And that is to ensure you and your guests have an enjoyable evening."

"I won't. I don't know anybody."

"Well, remember. Be polite. Smile..."

"But it's my birthday Alfred. Why can't I just have some fun?"

Alfred privately agreed but he raised an eyebrow and straightened Bruce's tie.

"Now, Master Bruce, what do we do even if we don't feel like it, eh?"

Bruce sighed. "Smile. Be polite. Head up. Shoulders back."

"Good boy. Come on, let me sort that scruff of hair out."

* * *

Alfred had greeted, seated and served almost thirty guests that night. He had watched as his young charge had shaken hands, smiled politely and picked and nibbled his way through a not exactly child-friendly three course meal. He felt a surge of pride for the young boy.

Thomas Wayne stood up from the table "The dining room now please folks, for a group picture."

Alfred smiled at the forced grin on Bruce's face as he stood up. He turned and went back to the kitchen, preparing himself for the grim job of washing up. Whistling, he began stacking plates and then jumped a mile when he saw Bruce in the hallway.

"Master Bruce! You've got to stop doing that. You'll give me a bleeding heart attack one of these days."

"It's time for the photograph Alfred."

"Yes, Master Bruce-and you look very smart."

"But you need to be in the photo, Alfred"

"That's very kind, Master Bruce but it's a family picture."

"But..."

"Off you go now."

Bruce shuffled off, shoulders drooping. Moved, Alfred turned his attention back to the pile of plates.

* * *

"Master Bruce?"

He saw the mop of hair beneath the double quilts.

"Mbmbmb"

"Up you get Bruce."

"Nooooo- sleeping"

"Come on, young sir. I'm not expecting grouchy stop-ins until you're at least fifteen."

He pulled the covers away from the boy.

"Alfred!"

"Come on"

"It's 6am! No!"

"Ten minutes. Outside on the drive- birthday surprise!" Alfred flung back the covers and left the room before Bruce could protest further.

Bruce grumbled furiously at the shut door before, reluctantly, reaching for his slippers.

* * *

"Alfred?"

Alfred grinned at the disheveled attempt Bruce had made to look presentable. He had put on a jumper with a mismatched pair of black trousers and trainers with his ever present backpack flung over one shoulder.

"Front seat, Master Bruce?"

"Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise"

"Did it have to be so early?"

"Snarky, master Bruce. Shush with your moaning. Get in."

Bruce gave another frown and then got into the car.

"Where are we going?"

"I've told ya, you'll see in good time"

Bruce slid further into his seat and tried to keep his eyes open. He didn't want to miss anything but he was so tired. Alfred double checked the young boys seat belt, before allowing him to drop off back into a slumber.

* * *

"Master Bruce, hey, come on little lad, wake up"

He blinked.

"So, everything and some extra fries, sir?"

Bruce sat up in his seat.

"McDonald's!"

"As requested, Master Bruce. The finest eatery in Gotham, I am reliably informed."

"Drive through?"

"In the jag? You've gotta be joking. Out you jump. We're dining in."

The smile already on Bruce's face widened. Alfred shook his head slightly. All the money in the world and he could please his charge with a few dollars.

"After you, sir."

* * *

Despite his upbringing, Bruce seemed happy and at home in McDonald's. He eagerly looked at the Happy Meal toys and took a while to choose his meal [A cheese burger Happy Meal , which he carefully removed the gherkins from, with extra large fries] Alfred opted for a Quarter Pounder with Cheese and a dark coffee.

"How's that going down, Master Bruce?

He didn't get a response but rather a nod of the head and a happy mumble of approval.

"Good. I'm pleased you're smiling again at any rate."

Bruce nodded and then his smile grew wider.

"What? That kind of smile always makes me wary, Master Bruce."

"Can I have the keys?"

"The keys?"

"To the Jag"

"To the _Jag?_ You must think I'm a mug, my old son."

"I just need to get something"

"Right, a warrent for my arrest when you've driven it into a dustbin."

"I promise I won't be naughty, Alfred!"

Alfred looked at the wide-eyed Bruce in amusement. He didn't think for one second the boy would do anything to shame him on his watch but the fierceness in the boys eyes made him step back a second.

"I PROMISE, Alfred."

Alfred smiled and tossed the boy the keys. "Make sure you lock it. You have one minute. Or else I'll eat all your chips."

Bruce grinned and ran, turning back only once, to make sure Alfred was still watching him.

Alfred watched the boy come scurrying back in after checking twice he'd locked the car, clutching his backpack.

"One minute, two seconds, Master Bruce. You owe me a chip."

Bruce grinned and passed him a fry before reaching into the bag and pulling out his new camera- a birthday present from Thomas Wayne.

"I want a photo!"

Alfred laughed at his young charge.

"Of what? McDonald's?"

"Nooooo, Alfred. Of me and you."

Alfred swallowed.

"Of me and you, Master Bruce?"

"Yeah! So I can put it next to the picture you weren't in yesterday."

"Well... I was working yesterday mate, you know that."

"Well, now you aren't"

"What do you think I'm doing right now?"

"Eating McDonald's with me."

Alfred smiled. "Fair point, mate."

"Excuse me." Bruce tapped the shoulder of a passing customer. "Could you take a photo for us please?"

"Urm, yeah, sure" The man shoved some rubbish in the bin and took the camera from Bruce. "Special occasion?"

"It's my birthday!"

"Oh, well. Many Happy Returns. How old are you?"

"Nine!"

"Nine! Quite the little man. Okay. You ready?"

Bruce leaned into Alfred, who put an arm around his young charge.

"Okay, one, two, three- say cheese!"

"Cheeeeeese!" Bruce smiled, as did Alfred, despite of himself.

"Okay, nice pic, guys." the man handed the camera back to Bruce and smiled at Alfred. "Cute kid, you have there."

Alfred gave a small chuckle. "Yeah. Yeah, he's a gooden."

 _Hope you enjoyed- please review if you have a second :)_


	5. The Phone Call

_Hope you all enjoy this next chapter_

 _I do not own Gotham_

 _Reviews make me :) A LOT_

* * *

It was supposed to be a night off. A quiet one.

Thomas Wayne had half-jokingly suggested Alfred go and paint the town red. Alfred had replied that a bottle of whiskey and some cheese would go down just as nicely in the comfort of his own quarters- and that way he would only be a phone-call away, should he be needed. Thomas had laughed.

"Alfred- I want you to be so bladdered on whiskey by the time we get back that you would be the LAST person anyone would ring. You need a night OFF."

Bruce didn't even bother knocking when he had bounded in to say good night. "We'll be back late, Alfred, we're at a late showing!" He was giddy and happy. A night out with Mom and Dad. It was too rare of an occurrence these days, what with Thomas Wayne being so busy.

"Well, you have fun, Master Bruce. And- hey- no spoilers, you hear? Want to see that film myself"

"Come with us. Dad said he asked you..."

"That he did, Master Bruce. Very nice of you all too. But I've other plans tonight- that for once don't involve chasing around after you, you little monkey."

Thomas had asked him to join the family earlier to a trip to the movies. Although Alfred would have enjoyed it, he politely declined. He had had a couple of weeks of Bruce clinging off his sleeve as he did housework, complaining that he never got to see his dad. It was time for the lad to spend some quality time with his parents. So he straightened the boys tie, ruffled his hair and told him to go and have some fun. He had replied to the yells of ' bye' from Thomas and Martha and poured himself a large whiskey.

A night off.

His eyes had begun to droop a little when the phone rang.

* * *

He had never driven so fast in his life.

 _"Two fatalities I'm afraid Mr Pennyworth..."_

He was breaking at least three laws and he couldn't give a monkeys.

" _Fatalities...oh God, no. No... who? Tell me who?"_

 _"Off the record sir? Two adults. A child is unharmed"_

Five blocks away...four...

 _"Is somebody with the lad? Is he safe? How in the hell is he doing? Are you looking after him?"_

 _"He's in shock, sir. He's not really talking."_

Alfred felt a lump rise in his throat at the thought. Please say they moved his boy away from the bodies...please say somebody with some compassion was with him until he could get him home and safe and warm...

 _"Please... can someone tell him that Alfred is on his way. To hold tight. That I won't be long, please?"_

 _"Like I said, sir... he's not exactly responding."_

 _"Just tell him I'll be with him soon, he's just a little boy, for Christs-sake!"_

 _"Yes, sir. Of course, sir."_

This was a nightmare. This couldn't be real...

* * *

He felt sick once he saw the lights and for the first time his urgency to get to Bruce matched his reluctance.

He wasn't prepared for this. How could _anyone_ be prepared for this?

He had put plasters on grazes, changed bandages and mopped down tears from temper tantrums. He had no idea how to even begin to approach something like this.

He got out of the car before it had even fully stopped, refusing to give himself a breather and make Bruce be alone for a second longer.

He deliberately averted his eyes away from the bloody corpses. Instead he saw his young boy, sat on a step with a man he didn't recognise. This was the first time Alfred truly appreciated the feeling of heart break. His poor little boy. Who he had held and sworn to protect from the evils of this world...There he was, talking to a stranger- looking as lonely and as lost as he had ever seen him.

Alfred refused the shouts of questions from people in uniforms and ducked under the police tape without introducing himself. Bruce spotted him straight away, shouting out in some kind of relieved joy, halting anyone from asking Alfred if he knew the young boy in question. Bruce, usually reserved in public, flung off the coat that had been placed around his shoulders and ran full belt at Alfred.

 _Don't cry. Your job is not to cry in front of the poor boy._

Alfred opened his arms wide. He was reminded all too painfully of the last time he had made such a gesture.

* * *

 _He had taken a holiday on Martha and Thomas' insistence. A close friend of the Pennyworth family had died. Martha had spotted him breaking down on the phone to his cousin whilst in his room and Thomas paid for a first class ticket back to England for the funeral. Their kindness had overwhelmed him and he had sworn he would be back on the first plane once he had paid his respects. No more than five days, he promised, despite their instance of taking whatever time he needed._

 _They hadn't told Bruce until after he had gone, which he was grateful for. He didn't have it in him for good byes, however short they may be. He hadn't been away from the little mite since the day he was born. And Bruce was only four. Far too young to be explaining such complex things to._

 _Yet when Alfred arrived back at Gotham airport , one day ahead of when he had promised, he had smiled at the homemade sign the Wayne's had made. 'ALFRIE'S FAMILY'. He had seen the small boy spot him first, break free from his mothers hold and run, full barrel, into the arms of his Butler._

 _Alfred had lifted him up over his head and wrapped him around one shoulder, as happy and relieved as the young boy to be beside him again._

 _"Well, hello to you too, you cheeky monkey"_

 _"Never, ever, ever, ever, ever leave again Alfrie"_

 _He had carried the toddler over to his parents. Thomas shook Alfred's hand and Martha kissed his cheek. He went to pass her the young boy but Bruce clung to Alfred and Martha smiled warmly._

 _"I think Bruce says more than words just how much we've missed you, Alfred."_

* * *

Bruce ran, practically falling into Alfred's arms. Alfred wrapped his body around him and held the boy as close as he could. Alfred glanced down at him. He was shivering uncontrollably _Shock..._. He rubbed Bruce's small body up and down and hugged him tight against his chest.

He locked eyes with the man who had been sitting with Bruce. He was young and he thanked his lucky stars for that. He had pictured an old soldier with his boy, telling him to not cry, telling him to be brave and not make a scene...

"James Gordon"

Alfred gripped Bruce all the harder but didn't leave the mans gaze.

"Alfred Pennyworth."

"We're gonna get the guy who did this, sir"

Whatever respect he had for the young man quickly disappeared. He didn't know how much Bruce was taking in but he didn't want any false hope given in front of the boy. There was going to be enough heartbreak- false hope was one they could do without.

"New boy, are ya?" Alfred could barely keep the snarl out of his voice.

The young man, to his credit, didn't bite but barely held back his surprise at the Butlers intuition.

"You'd say"

Alfred wanted to tell him to go home, drink himself blind and forget the case. This was Gotham. But he felt the young boy shivering in his arms so instead he simply nodded.

"Good luck, mate."

His attention turned completely to Bruce and holding him close he led him through the hysteria.

"Come on...don't look...head up... don't let them see you crying"

 _I've got you, mate. Hold on._

* * *

Please Review- new chapter soon.


	6. Coping

_Thank you for the reviews!:) They really spur me on_

 _I hope you're all looking forward to Gotham season 4 as much as me!_

 _I do not own Gotham_

 _Reviews make me :)_

* * *

Bruce had avoided eye contact with anyone, allowing Alfred to lead him through the photo flashes and crowd.

"Front seat?" Alfred murmured

A small nod and Alfred opened the door, made sure the boy was safely inside like he used to when he was a toddler and shut the door.

He turned to the crowds, words failing him at their insensitivity, he stared them down before going to the other side of the car.

Closing the door, he turned to Bruce.

"Let's get out of here, matey"

* * *

Alfred drove the scenic route home. As scenic as Gotham could get. He knew the news would have got out among the city in minutes and he didn't want Master Bruce to have to witness people gawping and gossiping.

"We're going to get you home, get you warm, get the fire on..."

He could hear himself talking nonsence, trying to fill the crueler sound of silence. Bruce looked down at his feet.

"And I'll make us both some toast, alright? Get you tucked up, sir- or if you'd prefer to stay up, we can do that..."

"Alfred... Alfred... I think I'm going to be sick"

Alfred didn't comment but slowed the car down to a halt. Bruce jumped out and began to immediately vomit at the side of the road.

Alfred stood back for a second, sensing the boys embarrassment despite the unprecedented circumstances. Then he stood behind the boy, gently rubbing his back. The boy shuddered and retched and then wiped his mouth.

"All up, Master Bruce?"

"I think so"

"Come on then, let's get back on the road"

Bruce climbed back into the car and resumed looking at his feet, although Alfred could see his shoulders shaking.

"Bruce?"

"I'm so sorry, Alfred. I didn't mean to."

"What's that, Master Bruce?"

"Being sick. I didn't mean to."

"Oh..." Alfred kept one hand on the wheel and put the other behind Bruce's neck. "It's allowed, Master Bruce. You couldn't help it."

Bruce continued to cry but didn't say another word.

* * *

By the time they drove through the gates of Wayne Manor, Bruce had stopped crying but still hadn't spoken.

Alfred parked up, made a swift glance around to ensure nobody from the press had got through the main gates and then let the boy out.

He kept one arm around the young boys shoulders all the way to the front door. Bruce didn't protest and looked up at the huge building,as though he were seeing it for the first time. As soon as it was unlocked, however, Bruce squirmed away and ran up the stairs.

"Bruce... Master Bruce..."

Alfred heard a door slam in response and he let out a shuddering breath.

"Christ" he murmured.

* * *

Deciding however the boy felt, he shouldn't be alone for any longer, Alfred tapped lightly on the door.

"Master Bruce?"

He was met with a silence which both saddened and scared him

"Sir, if you don't open the door, I'm afraid I'm going to have to knock it down."

"Leave me alone, Alfred."

"I'm afraid not, Master Bruce. Not tonight of all nights."

Silence.

"Sir, I have qute the experience of knocking over doors."

Silence

"Okay, sir. if you could move away from the door- I'm giving you three seconds before it comes down. Three, two..."

"Alfred, stop!"

The door was flung open and Bruce stood furiously, his eyes swollen. He had taken off his nightwear and put a dressing gown on. Alfred wondered how he had even got through the process of something so normal- and decided to follow suit.

"Forgive me, sir. I didn't want to cause further hurt... but I was worried- and I don't think you should be alone..."

He waited for the boy to interrupt him and protest but Bruce simply stared at his feet, wiping a hand across his face.

"Perhaps if you came downstairs for a hot drink with me, Bruce?"

Bruce didn't resist and instead dutifully followed Alfred down the stairs. Alfred held back from scooping the boy up so he wouldn't fall. He had a passing maddening thought that if only Bruce was younger, he could hold on to him, shield him from it all and not let him go.

* * *

"There you go, Master Bruce. Hot chocolate. Just the way you like it."

Bruce nodded but didn't touch the steaming cup.

"So..."

"I should have done something."

"Sir?"

"I told that detective. I should have done something. I should have fought. I should have STOPPED him"

"Now, hold on..." Alfred moved off the sofa and crouched down in front of Bruce. "You need to know, Bruce... right now, you need to understand. Not a single part of this horrendous business is your fault."

"It is though, Alfred. I just STOOD there. I did NOTHING."

"And what could you have done, Master Bruce? He had a GUN. He..."

Bruce had begun to cry softly, his arms and head on the table.

"Bruce? Please, look at me, son"

Bruce turned his head but kept it in his arms.

"This. Isn't. Your. Fault."

Bruce continued to sob and Alfred impulsively grabbed the boy by the middle and held him close.

"You need to start believing and knowing that right now. There was nothing you could have done. And the only way my heart didn't break getting that phone call was knowing you were alive."

"I don't understand why he shot them... and left me."

"We may never know, Master Bruce. Lunatics don't always have a reason. But thank God he left you."

"I wish..."

"Please...please, don't finish that sentence, sir."

Bruce took a hesitant sip of his hot chocolate and then a longer drink. Alfred smiled.

"See? Tastes the same, doesn't it?"

Bruce looked like he had been caught out. He quickly put the mug down.

"Well. How about I set your bed, Master Bruce?"

* * *

Alfred busied himself setting sheets and quilts. _Stupid to have pointed out the hot chocolate. He should have let the boy finish it in silence, not taken it as a personal victory._

What the hell was he supposed to do? This was beyond anything he had ever conceived.

He felt a presence at the door and quickly turned around.

"Master Bruce. Fresh sheets and three pillows, as you like it, sir"

Bruce nodded and Alfred stood aside for the boy to climb in.

"Right...well..."

"You can go now, Alfred."

Alfred's heart leapt. "I could always wait until you fall asleep..."

"No. It's fine. I'm tired. I want to be alone."

"I don't think..."

"Alfred! Please!"

Alfred stood, head bowed.

"As you wish, sir. I will be up throughout the night..."

"There's no need"

"But still... I'll be downstairs. Whenever you need me."

He didn't wish Bruce a good night. He wondered when it would become acceptable to do so again.

* * *

Alfred set up watch in the front room, leaving the door open so he could hear any cry or whimper. So far there had been only a disconcerting silence which had made him rise from his chair half a dozen times.

The phone rang and he cursed the caller, hoping that if by some miracle Bruce had fallen to sleep it wouldn't wake him.

"Wayne Manor, Alfred Pennyworth speaking."

"Sgt Taylor here, sir, from GCPD."

"Right..."

"My condolences, firstly, Mr Pennyworth"

"Thank you"

"I won't keep you, I realise it's been quite a night."

"You could say that"

"Well, I'll be round first thing in the morning to discuss how we move on from here."

"Move on... from where, exactly?"

"Well. We trust the boy is safe with you in the short term?"

"Of course he's safe with me!"

"Well. Good. Try and get some sleep then, Mr Pennyworth and we can discuss longterm oprtions tomorrow."

"Long-term options...?"

"Tomorrow, sir. Good night."

The phone went dead and Alfred stared at it, nonplussed before placing it back in the holder.

"Alfred?"

Alfred turned round to see a distressed Bruce in the doorway. He was wrapping the ends of his dressing gown around his hands.

"Hey, kiddo... are you okay?"

"I..." the boy gulped back his obvious tears. "I can't sleep"

"Of course you can;t..." Alfred inched futher towards the boy. "Of course not."

Bruce nodded, his head held up, before he collapsed, crumped in front of Alfred.

"Oh..." Alfred rushed forward, holding the boy in his arms.

He could tell Bruce was trying to tell him something but the heavy sobs prevented him from any words truly forming.

"Shhh, Bruce. Don't speak. It's okay." He rubbed Bruce's back with one hand whilst cradling his head in his chest.

"It's...it's...it's my fault"

"No, no..."

"I...I kept bothering Dad...about seeing...seeing the fil...film"

"As you should. As any little boy should. Shhh...come on now..." Alfred stroaked Bruce's hair.

"I can't... I can't go upstairs... I..don't want...t'be...alone."

"Of course not, sir. If you bear with me two minutes?"

Bruce nodded and Alfred half lifted the boy onto the couch. Bruce waited, comforted by the loud footsteps of the butler going up the stairs. He heard a crash and jumped at the noise. Alfred appeared at the door almost immediately.

"Sorry mate. I tried to be as quiet as possible- I brought your matress and blankets down, sir."

Bruce looked at Alfred warily. "Why?"

"Remember when you were a little, eh? On weekends and for special treats? us two would camp in the grounds in your tent?"

Bruce still looked unconvinced "I remember. You showed me survival skills on the bonfire"

"That's right. And when it rained- remember then?"

A flicker of a smile."We camped inside"

"Right. Well. As sleep is hardly going to be a friend to either of us- how about we camp inside like old times? Here in the front room."

Bruce frowned. "Tonight?"

"Sure. From what I can remember you never slept much on camping nights- keeping me up at all hours, nattering away. Well. This way we stay up and keep each other safe. What do you reckon?"

Bruce consided Alfred for a second and then nodded.

"That sounds good."

Alfred smiled. "Yeah? Well, good. I think that calls for another round of cocoa, young sir. How about you set the mattress and quilts up while I'm in the kitchen?"

Bruce nodded

"And you can break my rule of shouting in the hall- you shout if you need me, okay?"

"Okay, Alfred."

Alfred tried to distract himself by dealing with the night at hand. Get Master Bruce settled, if not asleep, at least as comfortable as he could be. How dare that cop call and insinuate such nonsense? Bruce wasn't going anywhere. Bruce wasn't some friendless, homeless orphan. He never would be. But an irrational fear filled Alfred as he allowed his mind to wander.

What if he wasn't deemed a suitable guardian? What if the Powers That Be took his boy away tomorrow? What if...

"Alfred?"

Alfred jumped. Bruce stood in the doorway.

"Master Bruce"

"Are you..." Bruce looked at the floor "Are you coming back in the front room now?"

"Yes, mate. Coco all done.I'm just going to slip a jumper on. How about you find something nice on the telly or pop a DVD on for us?"

"Okay" Bruce shuffled back through and Alfred once again bit his lip to fight threatening tears.

* * *

Alfred entered the room to find Bruce engrossed on his lap top, headphones in. This wasn't an uncommon sight and Alfred took the time to poke the fire and make-up a cozy bed for Bruce in the centre of the room. He flung a pillow and a blanket on the couch for himself, to be at least comfortable as he had no intention on actually sleeping.

He placed the coco next to Bruce and froze at the images on the lap top screen.

He placed a hand to his mouth in an effort not to throw up the contents of his stomach. Alfred Pennyworth had seen some truly horrific sights in his time. Friends decomposing in the mud. A gun barrel with his name on it. Yet he was hard pressed to find something as disturbing as this. Thomas and Martha Wayne, covered in blood, eyes open in forever shock.

"Master Bruce!"

Bruce jumped as Alfred slammed the lap-top screen down.

"What the bloody hell are you looking at?"

Bruce stood up, forgetting the heaphones were still in his ears causing the lap top to slam to the floor.

"I... I wanted to hear what people were saying"

"Nothing good, Master Bruce, nothing good!"

Bruce shoved the headphones out of his ears and stared at the floor.

"I'm sorry..."

Alfred cursed inwardly at his knee-jerk reaction. The boy was in enough shock.

"Bruce..."

Bruce's shoulders moved in heavy sobs. Alfred offered his arms. He thought for a moment that Bruce would refuse them. But then the young boy ran into them, as Alfred held him close. He guessed this was going to be it for forseeable future. Rebel, definance, cry. The difficult part was going to be how to react.

"I'm sorry, Alfred."

"Nothing to be sorry for, Master Bruce. I'm sorry for shouting. It's natural you'd... you'd be wanting to see what was happening"

"But I shouldn't..."

"Like I said, it's natural, Bruce"

Bruce dragged a hand across his face.

"I don't know what to do."

"You want me to be honest, sir? Me neither."

"Really?"

"Not the foggiest."

"Oh."

"But I'm here...okay? I'm not going anywhere. We can figure out the rest together."

Bruce pulled away and nodded.

"So... how about you get that computer of yours sorted, you put on a DVD and I warm up these hot chocolates, eh?"

Another nod.

 _Small steps_ thought Alfred _It's going to take small steps_

* * *

 _The Italian Job._ Alfred had given a small laugh when Bruce pressed play.

"Now, Master Bruce, I asked for _your_ favourite, not mine. I was fully preparing myself for _Finding Nemo"_

Bruce scrunched up his nose, " _Finding Nemo_ isn't my favourite film"

"Used to be"

"Well it isn't any more"

"Used to drive me batty, you used to get to the end and put it back to the start so the sodding fish was lost again"

"IT ISN'T MY FAVOURITE FILM"

The childish defiance made Alfred both smile and have a chill. The boy WAS so young- even if he didn't always act it. This child was now his sole responsibility. His.

"Alright. Alright, if you say so young sir. The Italian Job it is"

Bruce nodded and turned his attention to the screen, sipping his hot chocolate. Alfred reached for his own mug and allowed the boy to sit,apparently entranced, by his favourite film.

* * *

Bruce was almost happy as the film ran its course. Alfred provided snacks he would usually save for special occaions and the boy laughed, asked questions and seemed fairly relaxed- even shouting out "You're only supposed to blow the bloody doors off!" in his best cockney accent, causing Alfred to mutter "cheeky sod" under his breath. All seemed to be okay- at least temporarily- at least until the credits ran.

He saw the boy stiffen up as soon as he pressed stop on the DVD remote. The small light that had been glowing from the TV seemed to darken the room consribudly. They sat in silence for a second.

"Well, Master Bruce it's 3am maybe it's time for..."

"I don't know how I'll sleep, Alfred."

"What? Tonight?"

"Ever"

There was that ugly silence again.

"Well..." Alfred crooked his head. "I'm not sleepy either. Can I pick a film this time?"

Bruce looked up at him from his quilt "Really?"

"Better than trying to sleep and having to...think. Wouldn't you agree, sir?"

Bruce nodded enthuasically.

"Right then. Well- I'll go and have a look through your DVD collection in that mess of a room of yours"

* * *

Alfred was both amused and touched to see that Bruce had replenished their hot chocolates. Alfred surrupticiously added some whiskey to his own- it had been quite a night.

Bruce watched the starting screen "What have you chose..."

"Shh- wait and see."

He pressed play on the DVD and Bruce's eyes shot up when the Disney logo came on the screen.

"What have you..." the Pixar logo followed and Bruce looked at him questioningly "Finding Nemo?"

"Yes, Master Bruce. I miss that bloody fish. Now shush."

He swore he saw Bruce smile. There was a silence as they both turned to the tv. He saw Bruce fall into the safe world under the ocean- and how young he still was despite the show he put on.

It wasn't until he felt a weight upon his shoulder ten minutes later that he realised his young charge had finally,for now, fallen to sleep.


End file.
